They move well together

While she’s in the kitchen writing lyrics for their band, Clare and the Reasons, he’s often in the living room of their Brooklyn apartment crafting lush chamber-pop arrangements that give the songs a splash of Technicolor.

“We’re both brutally honest because we know each other so well,’’ Clare says. “Sometimes he’ll play something for me, and I’ll yell back, ‘That sucks!,’ but that’s how we work, and it’s worked out for us.’’

Such is the creative chemistry the Manchons have shared since they met at Berklee College of Music in the late 1990s, and it’s that healthy friction that makes their music so distinctive and intricate.

As the driving forces behind Clare and the Reasons, who open for Vic Chestnutt at Somerville Theatre on Sunday, Clare and Olivier have finally emerged as sophisticated songwriters and arrangers with a penchant for whimsy and a mash of styles. Just when a song starts to sound overly earnest, there’s suddenly a chorus of kazoos or a swell of strings courtesy of Van Dyke Parks.

Clare’s voice, however, is often the songs’ adhesive. Girlish, elastic, and playful, it conjurs echoes of other little voices, from Blossom Dearie and Claudine Longet to even Maria Muldaur, who was once married to Clare’s father, folk-blues legend Geoff Muldaur.

After just a cursory listen to their irresistible new album, “Arrow,’’ it’s surprising to think it’s taken this long for them to break out. Together for nearly a decade, they’ve relished the detours. Here’s how Clare remembers their first encounter: “I did my first chamber arrangement for a class at Berklee, and I asked him, ‘Would you come and record on my song?’ He laughed at me, and I cried.’’

To which Olivier, who grew up just outside Paris, replies: “From what I remember, I was talking with someone else at the time and I was laughing at something else.’’

But Clare, who recalls first being impressed with Olivier’s violin improvisation, was still intrigued and pursued him, even after a botched attempt to pique his interest.

“I remember that I had a gig at the Kendall Cafe, and I invited him to the show, and he said he couldn’t come because he had already gone whale-watching that day,’’ Clare says. (Olivier laughs but doesn’t exactly disown this story.)

Eventually their relationship took hold, and their debut, 2007’s acclaimed “The Movie,’’ was a remarkable introduction, trumpeting the arrival of a duo with a clear vision for its complex music. Culling from New York’s fertile music scene, the Manchons assembled the Reasons as a backing band of fellow chamber-pop musicians (including string and horn players) who come and go depending on availability. In concert, Clare often plays guitar, while Olivier mans the keyboards and plays violin.

Two years later, they’ve kept their cinematic overtones intact but leavened their new material with horns and more pop-oriented song structures. Released this week, “Arrow’’ fixates on the notion of time - specifically, how it escapes us. Clare turned 30 this year and found herself obsessed with where the years had gone, writing songs with reassuring titles such as “You Got Time’’ and including an amusing orchestral cover of Genesis’ “That’s All.’’

By her own account, time has always been on Clare’s side, even if it’s taken her longer than she expected to find her way. In 2000, fresh out of Berklee, Clare took off for Los Angeles with the shopworn dream of arriving in a new city with just her suitcase. She lasted a little more than two years there before realizing she’s an East Coast girl at heart, having grown up on Martha’s Vineyard and attending a boarding school in Western Massachusetts.

“LA was so damn sunny, and it didn’t work for me,’’ Clare says. “I don’t think we found our footing there, but when we moved to New York, suddenly the environment made all the ideas I had in my head seem to make sense.’’

While in Los Angeles, Clare recorded two albums of pop and jazz, demonstrating a talent for interpreting different kinds of material, much the way her father made his name. Clare hints that they didn’t have a close relationship when she was growing up, mentioning that he left the family when she was 5. She does give him credit for shaping her early tastes in music, though.

“He used to send me great music in the mail, like a Bessie Smith box set,’’ she says. “Me being the little girl without a daddy, I latched onto that kind of stuff really hard.’’

Emboldened by her love of early blues and jazz singers, Clare started to cultivate her own voice, as slight as it is. “I get frustrated sound guys all the time who ask why I sing so soft, but I tell them, ‘Hey, I’m working with what God gave me.’ ’’

Her voice was easily the best thing about her first two solo albums, which she now looks back on with a tinge of nostalgia.

“Oh, those still exist?’’ she says in jest. “I’m actually really proud of them. It’s not what I would do now. It was a searching time for me, and you can hear that. I definitely like where we are now and where we’re headed.’’

James Reed can be reached at jreed@globe.com.